A Hollyoaks Carol
by dawneh
Summary: The familiar Christmas Carol story John PaulCraig style


John Paul sighed restlessly as he lay in the darkness of his room. Shadows seemed to dance across the walls from the headlights of passing cars and John Paul closed his eyes, praying for sleep to come quickly.

Thankfully the house was swathed in silence as one by one the McQueen women had left to attend various Christmas Eve parties, each one trying and failing to get John Paul to join them. In the end they all gave up and left the young man alone to, as Mercedes to tactfully phrased it, sit around and feel sorry for himself.

John Paul thought that he had every reason to feel that way. It was Christmas, the season to be with the one you loved, but the one John Paul loved was miles away and the love that they shared had been destroyed earlier that year. John Paul lay alone in the quiet feeling very sorry for himself, and that was just the way he wanted it.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, it could have been minutes or it could have been hours but a strange light shining over his eyelids and stealing the peaceful darkness from him broke his rest.

Rubbing at his eyes John Paul opened them slowly, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of a man standing in the doorway shrouded in a glowing light.

"What the…" John Paul began sitting bolt upright in bed with his eyes fixed on the intruder, an intruder that became rather familiar as the brightness of the light around him began to fade. "Spike?"

"John Paul," the dark haired man said in greeting as he sat on the edge of John Paul's bed and smiled into the younger man's confused eyes, "How's things?"

"What the… how did you… why are you… Spike… what the hell are you doing here?"

"Relax," Spike said in a soothing tone, "I've got things to tell you and it's gonna sound a bit strange but I need you to listen and…"

"How did you get in?" John Paul interrupted.

Spike sighed. "I need you to listen and not interrupt!"

"But Spike…"

"John Paul please… I've got a lot to do tonight so let's press on shall we..? OK firstly I'm not actually Spike…"

"Spike what sort of stupid game is this?" John Paul's patience was starting to wear thin.

Spike sighed as he got to his feet and started pacing the room.

"I told them this would happen," he said, more to himself than to the confused man sitting in the bed, "But did they listen – oh no… go looking like someone they know they tell me… it makes it easier they tell me… but does it… well what do you think John Paul… does me looking like this Spike fella make things any easier?"

"Err no," John Paul replied, "I mean… I don't really know what I mean, what's going on…"

"OK," Spike said sitting back down on the bed, "I suppose you've read A Christmas Carol?"

"The Dickens one?"

"Exactly… good!"

"Well no… I've not actually READ it…" John Paul admitted, "But I've seen a few of the films."

"It was never like this in the old days," Spike lamented, "Still you know the story yes?"

"What Scrooge and the ghosts and all that…"

"Yes… well that's me… not Scrooge of course… I'm the first ghost, you know the one here to tell you what's to come…"

John Paul frowned, "You're a ghost? But Spike's not dead."

"I told them this would cause confusion," Spike the ghost replied with a sigh, "But they never listen… no, Spike isn't dead… and I'm not Spike…"

"Look Spike this really isn't funny any more…"

"How many times," Spike the ghost complained, "I AM NOT Spike… I'm a ghost, an apparition, part of the team sent to save you and all that…"

"Save me?" John Paul said with a laugh, "I don't need saving, I'm fine…"

"Course you are," Spike the ghost replied sarcastically, "I can see how fine you are sat here on your own on Christmas Eve while everyone you care about is somewhere else… yeah you look REAL fine to me… damn look at the time, I've got another four of these to do before morning… look John Paul you're a bright lad so let's just cut to the chase OK… tonight you will be visited by three ghosts, that's not including me by the way… oh you know how it goes… just be ready OK… I've gotta get going… you'd better get back to sleep."

"But I'm not tired now," John Paul said as his head reeled with the impossibility of the situation.

"Yes you are," Spike the ghost told him pressing his hand to John Paul's head.

John Paul's eyes became heavy and without any conscious decision he snuggled back into his bed as the sleep reclaimed him.

"Every year this gets harder," Spike the ghost complained, "No one ever wants to believe any more." Shrugging his shoulders the apparition was once again shrouded in light and then he was gone.

---

After a few hours, or possibly minutes, John Paul felt himself being pulled once again from the comfort of his sleep by a light that radiated around his room. Begrudgingly peeling open his eyes John Paul saw a mass of swirling stars that glistened as they spun until finally coming together to form the figure of a young woman.

"Oh this is just great," John Paul sighed, "Now I've got Steph Dean in my bedroom…"

"I am the ghost of…" Steph the ghost began.

"Yeah, yeah," John Paul interrupted, "The ghost of Christmas past… I've been expecting you…"

"You have, oh good…"

"Spike told me you were coming…"

"Spike?"

"Spooky fella before you… said he was a ghost… told me the three of you would be visiting," John Paul explained.

"Oh I see," Steph the ghost said with a bright smile, "The familiar faces thing… I'm not sure about it myself… but you know how it is… can't argue with the powers that be!"

"Right," John Paul agreed, "Of course I AM gonna have words with Mercedes in the morning."

"Mercedes? Your sister? What's this got to do with her?"

"I should have known there was something fishy about her making me a brew, but sticking something in it to make me hallucinate like this, well that's low, even for her," John Paul shrugged. Whatever this hallucination was caused by it didn't seem like he was going to be able to shake off the effects any time soon so he decided to go along for the ride and see just where it would take him.

"Well I don't know anything about that," Steph the ghost replied, "But if you're ready to go… you've got a busy night ahead of you."

"Right OK," John Paul said getting out of the warmth of his bed, "So what do I do?"

"Well… maybe putting a dressing gown on or something…" Steph the ghost suggested as she looked, rather intensely, at John Paul's naked body.

"Ahh right," John Paul said as a blush rose to his face, "Forgot." With a sheepish expression John Paul grabbed the dressing gown that was thrown over the bottom of his bed and quickly slipped into it, noticing the slight look of disappointment on Steph the ghost's face as he fastened it closed.

"Good," Steph the ghost said holding out her hand, "Now take a hold… and I'll show you the past."

Taking hold of the hand of the woman who was not a woman John Paul shivered. Her flesh felt as cold as ice and there was something about her touch that chilled him to the core.

"Here we go," Steph the ghost announced and without any further warning John Paul's bedroom spun and blurred until he was certain that he was going to be sick. Just as John Paul thought he could stand it no longer the spinning ended and he found himself in an old familiar room with some very familiar faces.

"This is where we used to live," John Paul gasped as he looked around the room. The Christmas tree in the corner was small and sparsely decorated, a sight that seemed strange to John Paul, as he had always remembered the Christmas trees of his childhood to be hugely impressive affairs.

"Mum, mum, tell Mercy to stop teasing me," a young blonde boy ran into the room and threw himself into his mother's arms.

"What is it John Paul?" Myra McQueen asked her young son affectionately.

"Mercy's picking on me," the young boy complained as his older sister approached. Safe in the protection of his mother's embrace the young man poked his tongue out at Mercedes.

"Mercy leave him alone," Myra admonished as she stoked her son's hair.

"He started it," Mercy complained, "He wouldn't stop beeping that stupid fire truck in my ear."

"It's not stupid," the young John Paul insisted, "It's a brilliant fire truck and you're just jealous that Father Christmas only brought you boring clothes…"

John Paul stood in silent awe as a scene from his childhood played out in front of him. He was only, what, five or six at the time, back when his mother's embrace could take away all the ills of the world. John Paul smiled as he watched his mother quickly soothe her children's disagreement before hugging them both close. The lines of worry were already beginning to show around her eyes and John Paul felt sad as he realised that for so many years he had never been aware of the sacrifices Myra had made in her life to keep her family together.

"You know what," John Paul said quietly to Steph the ghost, "We didn't even realise that we didn't have much back then, mum always seemed to make every Christmas feel special… I don't think we ever really appreciated that."

"Come on, we've got to go," Steph the ghost told him, her cold flesh once again wrapping around his hand.

"Can't we stay a bit longer?" John Paul begged as the vision of his childhood began to blur and fade from view.

Once again the sickening lurch dragged John Paul through time dropping him into a room he didn't recognise.

"This wasn't our house," John Paul said with a frown.

"Just watch," Steph the ghost told him.

"Mum, mum, let me have a go now," a young blonde haired girl said pleadingly.

"OK, but don't break it, it's not a toy you know Steph," her mother said handing her daughter a microphone.

John Paul's eyes widened in amazement. "Oh my god!" he gasped, "That's Frankie Osbourne, well Dean I suppose then… and Steph… I wonder where…"

As if on cue a young dark haired boy wandered into the room and, spotting the microphone in his sister's hand, he grimaced. John Paul would have recognised those eyes anywhere, they were still that deep rich brown and still framed by inexplicably long lashes that gave the boy an exotic look. "Does she have to sing?" the young Craig lamented as the karaoke machine was switched on and a Christmas tune began blaring from its speakers.

John Paul winced as much as the young boy did as Steph's young, untrained, and painfully out of tune voice began to screech into the microphone. "Stephanie de la Dean is born," John Paul said with a laugh.

"Come on, let the master show you how it's done." A dark haired man, in an Elvis style jump suit said taking the microphone and quickly changing the karaoke to an Elvis track, which he began to sing with expertise.

"That must be Johnno," John Paul breathed recognising the man from the few pictures Craig had shown him, "They all look really happy… the way Jake's looking up at his dad… like he's a real hero or something… god it must have killed them when he left…"

"Time to leave John Paul," Steph the ghost said gripping his hand.

"Oh come on…"

But John Paul's objection fell on deaf ears and before he knew it he was standing in his bedroom once again.

"So what was all that supposed to teach me then?" John Paul asked.

"What ever you want it to," Steph the ghost told him, "Or maybe you can just take it as happy memories of the past… it's up to you."

John Paul didn't remember getting back into bed but, as his room was once again filled with light and his eyelids grew heavy, his head rested against the softness of his pillow and sleep claimed him once again.

---

John Paul was ready when the next bright light filled his room and was already out of bed, and in his dressing gown, before the swirling beams had coalesced into another familiar form.

"Elliot?" John Paul said with a laugh.

"What?" the third apparition said with surprise.

"Sorry, you just look like my friend… Elliot…"

"Oh right," Elliot the ghost replied, "It's that familiar faces thing, I suppose the others have explained it to you."

"Yeah they have," John Paul said still laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"You even SOUND like Elliot, it's kinda funny… and I've never been able to take that hat seriously."

Elliot the ghost touched his hat defensively and struck what he intended to be an authoritative pose.

"I am the ghost of Christmas present," he boomed. Or rather tried to boom but the effect was somewhat lost in Elliot's gentle welsh lilt.

"Yeah I know, only I don't get it… I mean this IS the present… and I'm already here, so what are you gonna show me? Me standing here talking to you?"

"There are more people in the world that just you, you know John Paul McQueen," Elliot the ghost said sternly as he snatched a hold of John Paul's hand. The now familiar icy chill ran through John Paul's flesh and the room seemed to fill with smoke. Just as he wondered why he wasn't feeling the urge to cough the smoke cleared and John Paul was standing in the middle of the Loft.

Wrapping his dressing gown even tighter around himself John Paul felt very self-conscious. The Christmas Eve celebrations were in full swing and he was painfully aware of being in the centre of it wearing nothing but his thin towelling robe.

Quickly shuffling over to the corner John Paul spotted his mother and Jacqui at a table and wandered over to them.

"D'you think John Paul's gonna be OK?" Myra asked. Her brow was creased with worry as she spoke.

"He's gonna be fine mum, he's tough you know that, just give him time yeah?" Jacqui squeezed her mother's hand supportively as she took a sip of her drink.

"But I've never seen him like this, he's so unhappy… I hate seeing any of my kids hurting when I can't do anything about it…"

"It's his first broken heart mum, there's nothing you can do… nothing any of us can do, he's just gotta ride it through, we've all been there."

"It's been months since Craig left and he still seems no better… I wish he'd never got involved with that lad… I knew no good could ever come of it… he was never good enough for my boy…"

"It was John Paul's decision not to go to Dublin, you can't keep on blaming Craig… I'm sure he was just as hurt as our John Paul was."

"Maybe," Myra conceded, "I just wish I could see my little boy smile again… it breaks my heart to see him like that."

Jacqui slipped her arm around her mother's shoulder, hugging the woman close as a few tears trickled over Myra's cheeks.

John Paul's mouth hung open as tears spilled down his own face. "I didn't realise they were so worried about me," he said turning to Elliot the ghost.

"They're your family John Paul," Elliot the ghost replied kindly, "Of course they're worried… when one of you hurts you all hurt… you know that…"

"I just never thought… I'm sorry mum," John Paul reached out a hand to touch his mother but it passed through her as if she were made of smoke, or he was, "I never meant to upset you like this…"

"Come on," Elliot the ghost urged, "Time to go…"

"I never get to spend long enough…" John Paul began but already the smoke had filled his vision and he knew there was no point in arguing.

As the smoke cleared John Paul found himself in a dark unfamiliar room and he looked around in confusion.

"Where are…" John Paul's question died on his lips as he spotted a figure sat at a small desk in the corner. "Craig," John Paul breathed as his heart pounded heavily in his chest.

Looking around the room John Paul realised he must be in the living room of Craig's Dublin flat, the flat he had once planned to live in. Craig hadn't been joking when he said the place wasn't much, it looked like a hovel. The walls were covered in a long since faded wallpaper that bore the stains of many previous tenants and the carpet was threadbare and grimy.

"It's Christmas Eve," John Paul whispered, "What's Craig doing sitting at home on his own?"

"And where exactly where you before I came for you?" Elliot the ghost asked with a knowing smile.

"That's different," John Paul replied, "I mean Jake and Frankie have both said how much fun Craig is having in Dublin… so where are all these new friends of his..?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe he just tells his family that so they don't worry?" The words of Elliot the ghost spoke directly to John Paul's heart and he gasped at the sudden stab of pain.

"Oh Craig," John Paul said sadly, "I thought at least YOU'D managed to be happy…"

"Go and see what he's doing," Elliot the ghost urged, pushing John Paul towards the man seated in the corner.

As he approached Craig lifted his face from the desk and the sight tore John Paul's breath from his lungs. Craig's almost perfect beauty was marred by the look of total desolation in his eyes. The deep rich brown that had once glistened so brightly had dulled and were lifeless as they looked into the empty room.

Craig lifted a sheet of paper from the desk and looked at what he had written. Stepping behind him John Paul felt a moments guilt at reading over his shoulder but the first words soon took that guilt away as the need to know what Craig wanted to say glued his eyes to the page.

"Dear John Paul," the letter began in Craig's distinctively neat handwriting.

"Dear John Paul

I don't know how many letters I've written you now, who knows maybe one day I will actually post one of them. So here we are, Christmas Eve, I imagine that you're out somewhere with your family, or maybe your new HCC friends. Are you in the Loft John Paul? Are you dancing to some cheesy Christmas tunes and not even sparing a thought for me?

I never thought I'd be here on my own. Dublin. It had been a dream and now I hate it. I look around this awful flat and all I can see is where you aren't. I try my best to fit in at Trinity, but without you by my side I'm just the outcast again.

Where did we go wrong John Paul? How did we let what we had get away from us? If one kiss was that important to you why couldn't I just do it? I've asked myself these question, and a million others like them, but I can't find the answers. Are there any answers? Maybe we were never meant to be… but how did it seem so right for so long?

I miss you John Paul, it's as simple as that. And I don't just mean the sex. Oh sure I miss holding you, touching you and kissing you… I miss the way you feel when you used to lie in my arms, I miss the sounds you would make as we made love… I miss the sight of you and the sound and the smell and the taste. But you know what I miss most of all? I miss my best friend. I miss him more than anything else in this world.

All my love, always

Craig."

The words blurred from John Paul's vision as tears filled his eyes and tumbled heavily over his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry Craig," he gulped, "I had no idea… I miss my friend too… I miss you so much Craig."

"Time to go John Paul," Elliot the ghost said gently.

"No, it's too soon… please let me have more time with him… please…" John Paul's wide blue eyes pleaded with the ghost but as the cold hand gripped him he knew that Craig would soon be gone.

"Sorry John Paul," Elliot the ghost said as the smoke obscured Craig from view, "I don't make the rules…"

The tears were still falling from John Paul's eyes as his bedroom came into focus around him.

"Why couldn't I stay a little bit longer with him?" John Paul sobbed.

"It doesn't work like that… you only get to see what you need to… sleep well John Paul, the last ghost will be here soon… sleep well…"

John Paul's head fell against his pillow as Elliot the ghost faded from sight and sleep took away his tears.

---

John Paul was already waiting when the third apparition made its appearance. The memory of Craig had haunted his dreams as the eyes, once so full of life and love, stared at him from the darkness empty and alone and John Paul had awoken bathed in sweat and unable, or rather unwilling, to try sleeping again.

A soft golden mist began to fill the room and John Paul knew that his final visitor of the night had arrived. As the small figure stepped from the vapours John Paul stared in surprise. He had expected a familiar face, but this one had never crossed his mind.

"It's you!" John Paul breathed quietly.

"I am the ghost of… oh you mean the face don't you?" the ghost asked with a smile.

"Yeah you look like…"

"Who?"

"A friend… a good friend who I hurt very badly…"

"Doesn't sound like something a friend would do."

"No it doesn't does it," John Paul sighed as he looked at the face of the pretty blonde woman before him, "But thankfully she forgave me in the end… Hannah forgave me."

The Hannah ghost smiled gently, running her hand through her shiny blonde hair before taking a deep breath.

"I am the ghost of Christmas future… I'm here to show you… I'm sorry John Paul…"

Hannah the ghost took hold of John Paul's hand and he was surprised to find her touch warm, human almost.

"Why are you sorry?" John Paul asked as the golden mist began to envelope him.

"You'll see," Hannah the ghost replied quietly, "And I am sorry…"

The golden mist soon dissipated and John Paul found himself in an unfamiliar living room and he was surprised to see a total absence of any Christmas decorations, not even a single card adorned the bare mantle.

"I thought this was supposed to be Christmas," John Paul said in a hushed voice.

"It is," Hannah the ghost told him, "Just watch."

John Paul gaped as a man entered the room. "My god it's Craig… he's going grey!" John Paul giggled at the sight of the man he knew so well with grey speckling his dark hair, aging him far beyond the thirty-something years that his face told of. John Paul's giggles faded as he saw the same emptiness in the man's eyes, the same desolation he had seen in Dublin.

"He looks so sad," John Paul said, "Why is he on his own?"

As if to answer John Paul's question a moment later a woman entered the room. Her long dark hair was tied tightly at the back of her head and her dark eyes looked at Craig with contempt.

"Oh you're still here then," she hissed.

"Well I do live here," Craig replied in a defeated tone.

"More's the pity."

"Happy Christmas to you to…" Craig sneered.

"It would be if you weren't here… god I don't know why I ever married you…"

"That one's simple Susana my darling," Craig replied with sarcasm, "you wanted some mug to leach off for the rest of your life!"

"Shame I picked a loser like you then isn't it."

"Well that'll teach you for pretending to be pregnant then won't it!" Craig shook his head sadly as he looked at his wife. The truth was he had never loved her, but for a while he had cared for her and when she "fell pregnant" Craig didn't hesitate to propose. And he had regretted it almost every day for the ten years of their marriage.

"What are you still doing here anyway? I thought you were going out… going to see that old hag of a mother of yours or something," Susana goaded.

"What's wrong… got someone coming round… which neighbour are you shagging this week?" Susana had long since given up keeping her infidelities a secret just as Craig had long since stopped caring.

"Well I've got to get it somewhere," Susana snapped, "You're never up to it."

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life," Craig said, "But marrying you was certainly one of the worst… I wish I'd never met you."

"Likewise, so why don't you piss off so I can actually enjoy my Christmas."

Craig didn't bother to argue. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the day in that house. The last thing he wanted to do was spend another second with that woman.

Pulling on his coat Craig left without so much as a backward glance.

"Tell me that's not true," John Paul begged Hannah the ghost as tears glistened in his eyes, "Please tell me that's not Craig's life… tell me he doesn't end up like that."

"I only show the future," Hannah the ghost replied sadly, "I can't change it…"

John Paul covered his face with his hands and the loneliness of Craig's life tore at his chest. "Anything would be better than that," John Paul sobbed, "Anything…"

"Come on John Paul… it's time to see your Christmas of this year… I'm sorry…"

"Stop saying you're sorry," John Paul pleaded, "Please… I don't want to see any more… just let me go home."

"I can't John Paul," Hannah the ghost replied as she held onto his hand, "You have to see it… you have to know…"

Once again the golden mist swallowed John Paul and as it faded he found himself stood in the open air. Taking a step forward John Paul looked down at his feet feeling uncomfortable, as the gravel underneath his feet remained silent under his footsteps.

"Where are we now?" He asked with a sigh.

"You'll see, just be patient." Hannah the ghost never let go of John Paul's hand and he felt the constant contact comforting and frightening.

After a few seconds a man approached them.

"That's Craig again," John Paul said as the man got close enough to recognise, "You're showing me Craig again…"

"Just watch…"

"Hang on… is that…" John Paul gaped as Craig stopped to talk to a dark haired woman, her locks now streaked with silver, but still the woman he knew and loved, "It's Jacqui… why is Craig meeting Jacqui?"

"Why don't we follow them and find out?"

"How's Myra?" Craig asked as he followed Jacqui down a gravel pathway.

"No better," Jacqui told him with a sad smile, "It's been six months Craig, she's never gonna get over this…"

"I wish I'd been here…"

"There was nothing you could have done… hell none of us even realised."

John Paul felt a fist punch into his stomach as the couple stopped walking and looked ahead of them.

"No," John Paul gasped, "No, no… it can't be…"

"Why'd he do it Jac?" Craig asked with tears in his eyes.

"I don't know, I wish I did… it's killed mum this… he was always her baby boy and for him to just…" Jacqui stroked her hand over the cold marble gravestone as she spoke. "She's convinced he's gone to hell… suicide… well it's a sin isn't it?"

"I still miss him," Craig said with regret as he traced his fingers over the engraved writing "Here lies John Paul McQueen". "I know I never even saw him after I left for Dublin… but even now I miss him so much."

"I don't think he ever stopped loving you Craig… but in the end I think… I think he was just so unhappy…"

"I should have come back," tears tumbled down Craig's face as he spoke, "I should have… I should have fought for him… why did I ever let him walk away? Why could I be what he wanted me to be back then… god Jac I can't stand the thought that he's gone."

Jacqui slipped her arms around the heartbroken man and held him close and they stood in a shared silent grief for the loss of a man they both loved.

"Stop it," John Paul begged, "Please make it stop…"

"I am so sorry John Paul," Hannah the ghost said wiping his tears from his face, "I know this hurts… but you had to see it…"

"But I've seen enough… let me go home… please let me go home."

"Come on Craig," Jacqui said as the man stepped out of her embrace, "I'll buy you a coffee."

Craig nodded before bending down to place a single red rose on John Paul's grave. "Goodbye John Paul," he whispered, "I love you… always."

John Paul's shoulders shook with heavy sobs as he watched Jacqui and Craig walk away. Without thinking he stepped towards the grave, the sight of his name and the date of his death made him shiver to his very centre. Crouching down John Paul reached out a hand to the rose, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't really there, and then was surprised to discover its solid feel between his fingers as he picked it up.

"That's it now John Paul," Hannah the ghost told him as the golden mist returned, "You can go home."

John Paul was still weeping as his bedroom rematerialised around him and he felt as if he would never be able to stop. Dropping the rose on the bottom of his bed John Paul turned to Hannah the ghost angrily.

"Why show me that?" he snapped, "Why put me through that… what can it benefit me to know that's our futures… I might as well just give up and die now."

"Oh John Paul," Hannah the ghost stroked his face gently, "Don't you understand anything you've seen?"

"I understand that I'm gonna die miserable and alone and Craig is gonna live just the same way."

"John Paul, John Paul," Hannah eased the trembling man down to sit on the edge of the bed as she crouched before him her eyes filled with caring as she spoke. "The past, the present, there's nothing we can do about them, except maybe learn from the mistakes we made… but the future… that's a whole different thing…"

"How d'you mean?" John Paul sniffled.

"The future hasn't happened yet… it's not carved in stone… what I showed you, what you've seen it doesn't have to be… not if you don't want it to."

"I can… I can stop it?" John Paul clung to the glimmer of hope like a drowning man.

"You can stop it," Hannah the ghost confirmed, "If you're brave enough to make the effort… if you're strong enough to fight for what you really want… if you know what you really want…"

"Craig," John Paul replied simply, "It's always been Craig…"

Hannah the ghost's lips brushed lightly over John Paul's cheek as he lay back in his bed, sleep already tugging at his mind.

"Real love doesn't come along that often," Hannah the ghost whispered as John Paul began to drift away, "You should never let it go."

Hannah the ghost watched as the young man slept. There were times when she hated showing people how terrible their lives could become but it was a comfort when, like with that beautiful boy, she knew that there was still a chance to save them.

---

John Paul's head felt heavy and his eyes seemed to be filled with grit. If he hadn't known better John Paul McQueen could have sworn that he had a hangover, or at least had had very little sleep. His mind raced with images of the strange dreams that had haunted him throughout the night. The strange visitors that had shown him things he really didn't want to see. But with the morning the bad dreams faded away, after all that's all they had been, just bad dreams, right?

Throwing back his duvet John Paul rubbed his tired eyes and climbed from his bed. He winced as a sudden sharp pain pierced his foot. Sitting on the edge of his bed John Paul leaned forward to investigate the cause of his discomfort. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the single red rose lying on the floor, a drop of blood glistened on one of the thorns where he has stepped on it.

"It can't be," John Paul whispered to himself as he picked up the flower, "It was just a dream… what's going on?"

As he stroked the petals of the rose John Paul was surprise to find how cold they were, as cold as when he picked the bloom up from the graveside. John Paul's hands began to tremble. If the rose was real then how much else of that night was? The memory of Craig's eyes as he sat at his desk flashed brightly across John Paul's mind. Their pain, their emptiness and John Paul realised that if there was even a tiny chance that what he had dreamed was true he had to do something about it.

A gentle voice seemed to whisper in his ear. "Real love doesn't come along that often, you should never let it go."

"I won't," John Paul announced to his empty room, "I won't… not a second time."

Grabbing for his mobile John Paul quickly scrolled to Craig's number, hitting the call button before he had time to think, before he had time to reconsider and before he had time to change his mind.

The phone rang several times before it was answered.

"John Paul?" Craig's voice sounded sleepy and confused but the sound of his name made John Paul smile, "John Paul is that you?"

"Yeah it's me Craig," John Paul replied softly, "I wanted to… that is I needed too…. I wanted to say Happy Christmas."

"Oh, right." Craig had fallen asleep on his sofa in the early hours of the morning and a blue-eyed boy calling to him, calling him, had plagued his dreams all night. Craig rubbed his hands over his face as he wondered if he were still in the middle of that dream. "Err Happy Christmas to you too…"

"Look Craig the thing is…" John Paul hesitated. What if it had been a dream? What if he was making a huge mistake all over again?

"Real love doesn't come along that often, you should never let it go."

"Craig I was wrong," John Paul blurted out as the memory of Hannah the ghost's words echoed through his head, "I was wrong and I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry…"

"Wrong… about what?"

"Everything… god Craig I should have trusted you… I should have given us a chance. I should never have walked away that day. I was scared and I didn't take the time to realise that you were too… please Craig, tell me it's not too late… I miss you… I miss my friend."

Craig gasped at John Paul's words, it was almost as if the man had seen his letter.

"I miss you too," Craig replied quietly, "More than I knew I could."

"Can we try again? I mean, do you want to try again?" John Paul chewed his lip nervously as he listened to the sound of Craig's breathing on the other end of the phone line.

"Do you think we can make it work?" Craig asked after a thoughtful pause.

"I don't know," John Paul replied honestly, "But I don't want to spend the rest of my life wishing I'd tried… I don't want to regret letting go of the greatest love of my life… We could be the biggest disaster ever, or we could be happy. Craig we could be really happy… d'you wanna chance it?"

"John Paul… d'you really mean this?" Craig wanted to believe the words he was hearing but it seemed too wonderful to really be possible and he was afraid to hope only to have those hopes cruelly dashed again.

"I've never meant anything more in my life… I don't wanna spend another minute of my life without you in it… I don't wanna end up…" A sudden image of a gravestone flashed into John Paul's mind and he held his breath until the pain eased, "I don't wanna end up lonely and alone cause I let you go… I need you back in my life Craig… if you still want me."

Craig brushed the tears from his face as John Paul's words wrapped around him and took away the chill that had been there for so long.

"Of course I want you," he said tearfully, "I hate being without you… I don't wanna be without you in my life either."

"I'm coming to Dublin!" John Paul announced decisively.

"What? When?"

"Dunno, soon, as soon as I can get a flight… everything else I can sort out later. I need to be with you Craig… that's all that matters."

"Can you get here by the 31st?"

"I should think so, why?"

"I'd like to start the New Year with you John Paul… a New Year together…"

John Paul smiled as a happiness he hadn't felt in so long washed over him.

"I'll be there," he replied confidently, "I promise… oh and Craig…"

"Yeah…"

John Paul hesitated for a second, but he had to ask, he had to know. "Did you write me a letter last night?"

"How d'you know that?"

"I had this dream," John Paul said as a shiver ran through him, maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. "I'd better go, I haven't even seen my mum yet… I'll call you later…"

"OK… later…"

"Love you Craig."

"Love you too."

---

John Paul bounded into the living room with an energy he couldn't contain. Wrapping his arms around his mother he squeezed her tightly, kissing her cheek firmly.

Myra was laughing as her son let go, she couldn't believe the sudden wonderful change in him. Turning to his sisters John Paul hugged them all, pressing sloppy kisses to their faces as they playfully tried to push him away.

"Happy Christmas," John Paul beamed to his family.

"What's gotten into you?" Myra asked not really caring what the answer was if it made her son this happy.

"I'm going to Dublin," John Paul announced, "I'm going to be with Craig…"

"John Paul no," Myra objected, "you can't, I mean how can you, you're in the middle of your studies and Craig… I thought it was all over with him."

"I can transfer uni… or take a year out or something… it doesn't really matter… I need to be with him mum, it's what we both need…"

"But John Paul." Jacqui's hand on her mother's arm halted her words.

"D'you remember what you said last night mum?" Jacqui asked. Myra thought for a moment and then realised what her insightful daughter meant as her own words rang in her ears "I just wish I could see my little boy smile again".

"Look at him mum," Jacqui continued, "Just look…"

Myra nodded as she saw the deep smile that shone from John Paul's face, his eyes glowing with pure happiness, and she knew that she couldn't prevent him from holding on to that, whatever it might mean.

"I'll miss you John Paul," Myra said as she pulled her son into her arms.

"I'll miss you too mum," John Paul replied, "But we'll come home when we can… and maybe you can visit us… we won't be that far away."

---

John Paul saw him instantly. His flight had been delayed and every moment that kept him from Craig seemed to last an eternity. But finally the plane touched down in Dublin. John Paul had come home.

Craig had been waiting patiently, watching the boards for the arrival of each new flight and counting down the seconds until he could see that beautiful blue-eyed boy again.

The two men stood a few feet from each other, motionless and staring, both hardly daring to believe that this moment had come, that their dreams had finally come true.

As if at some unseen cue they both moved at the same second, crashing into each other's arms and holding on tightly, as if they never intended to let go again, which is exactly how they felt.

"Craig…"

"John Paul…"

Their lips touched gently in a kiss that said more than any spoken words ever could. A kiss that proudly proclaimed "we're together and we're in love". A kiss that sealed the beginning of an unknown future.

As John Paul stepped back from Craig's embrace he caught sight of four familiar figures stood to one side. Something told John Paul that no one else in the airport could see those spectres but he still smiled his thanks to them as they slowly began to fade from view.

At the last second Hannah the ghost lifted her hand to her face and blew a kiss to the two men who she was certain had a wonderful life ahead of them.


End file.
